writing.as.amit

Get to the point. I remember those words every time I write anything.

Another way to look at it is to focus on how I begin my posts. Matthew Dicks reminded me about the importance of this today.

Focus on the first thing you write, say, or sing. Spend time making the absolute best decision about those first few things you are going to express. Never forget their importance to everything that will come after.

I was (and still am) bad at this aspect for years. I circle what I want to say before I say what I want to say. Over years of writing, I got better at this. I come to the point quicker now.

I feel frustrated when I see some of the most personal stuff with an interesting premise get lost in need of setting context. Many writings need context setting. Research papers need context. Thesis. How-to Manuals. And on and on.

But a personal blog does not. Sure, some stories need a build-up; take the reader along the ride. But most don't.

On the other hand, does there even need for an “effective way” of writing anything personal? It's personal, after all. Individual. There's no correct way of doing it. It's a matter of style.

But what counts is not to lose the reader before I arrive at the point. So begin strong.

I read a post today that I had written around 15 years ago. Reading my words from yesteryears, especially from my early days of blogging, reminds me every time how fearless I was in expressing what I had in mind. Not everything I wrote made sense. But it wasn't bogged down by a fear of correctness.

Correctness of idea. Of language. Of grammar. Of words.

Is my #writing susceptible to that fear now? I hope not because, to me, it needs to be free-flowing. Sure, I am more alert to the mistakes in my use of the language. Or of words. But that's bound to happen naturally over years of reading and writing.

This reminds me of a nice quote from an Indian actor I respect, Pankaj Tripathi. He was talking about how fame and money have changed the artist in him. An artist, he said, is much more courageous and adventurous when they are new and lack money. Their experience, popularity and earnings make them powerful but timid.

I believe the same applies to one's experience with writing words. What I gained in correctness, I likely lost in courage.

So, which version of the self do I enjoy reading more? I like to believe that my writing has improved over these years. I am no master, but I am not an amateur either. Even though I am not the same fearless blogger from the past, I don't mind this slightly mindful version of myself.

One productivity hack I have read the most often is just to get started. Not to wait for inspiration or motivation. Not to procrastinate. Even with writing, or any art form, many often allude to the importance of blank canvas.

Stare at the page; one's mind will soon start filling it up with colours. Or words, in my case.

It has worked for me, too, for the last few weeks. The posts eventually happen when I make myself available in front of the laptop. With me travelling and visiting my cousins for the last few days, no surprise they didn't.

It was a welcome and much-needed break. I visited Mumbai, a place that I have a love-hate relationship with.

On the one hand, I love spending time with my cousins. The togetherness lends me a reset when I can forget all the stress and burdens of daily #life. Over the food we love and the memories that we chatter about. As time passes, the animated environment gives way to moments of real connection. As individuals find corners where they catch up on others' lives, I get surrounded by mumbles. But soon, as someone invariably gets hungry, everyone regroups, and the surroundings get filled with laughter again. This cycle continues throughout the day and late into the night.

Nothing's more comforting than spending time with people you bond with.

But then I hate Mumbai when I need to visit the city. It's too lively for my liking. Everyone's moving too fast. Every place is too crowded. No one has time to pause. And if I do, I face a lot of glares from the Mumbaikars. This includes my cousins too. Why the hell will you do that – stop?

Some cities want you to pause and absorb their essence. Mumbai is not that city. It wants, needs you to match up with its speed. I struggle to do that. And I struggled this time, too. I returned home exhausted, drenched with the pressure of meeting the city's high lifestyle standards.

As I lay tired in bed, there was a moment when I attempted to push myself to publish something. Anything. But I have already conceded that this place won't follow a schedule. This place isn't a journal that I need to update daily. This place isn't a newsletter that needs to stick to a schedule. This place is my blank canvas.

I had heard a folktale as a child that I still love. The morale it narrates is loosely translated as “an entire tub full cannot retrieve what the drop took away”. But the real takeaway from the tale was to be wary of one's instinctive reactions.

The spontaneous reactions taken in anger are as instinctive as instinctive can get. In that sense, anger is destructive. Rebounding from the aftermath that an angry reaction leaves behind is no painless task. It doesn't matter how much one attempts to recover what was lost; the scarred mind cannot be easily healed.

Because anger scars both people, even the one who gets angry.

Hence I have moulded myself to not give in to the instinct when angry. I remind myself that my brain is muddled, and the best action I can take is to walk away and take a few deep breaths. It avoids ruining the remaining day for the other person and me.

Don't recover. Resist.

Today got as frustrating as the working days can get, shaking my confidence in my capabilities to the core. As I signed off for the day, I was left numb.

I toiled hard, but the circumstances fought back stronger. Key people went on unplanned leave. Approvals got delayed. Core systems faced unplanned downtimes. Folks got under undue pressure, and they began rubbing it off others.

The last one on the list of unfortunate events above is the worse. I hate when people do that.

Work one gets assigned can be delegated. Shared. Pressure shouldn't be.

I am generally a lot more organized while handling my tasks with a clear goal for the day. But it gets frustrating when people pollute my day with their priorities. When they devalue my time because they can't value theirs.

What's even more frustrating is that in a corporate world, there's just no way out of this at times.

As the day progressed, I was overwhelmed by the sheer number of tasks left untouched, the tasks that I should have worked on instead. The third day running of missed daily goals and the list keeps piling up.

Fingers crossed, tomorrow dawns better. That I manage to put my head down and pull my messed-up productivity out of the rut.

Silence is golden. Amidst friends, it is not.

It was Holi today, and I was surrounded by friends or people I knew once as friends. Yet there was hardly anyone I could walk up to and converse with without things getting awkward pretty soon. I knew then that some threads were broken within us. Some memories were lost. Some part of me was forgotten.

I won't be too self-critical by blaming myself. Such has been the #life for the last few years that there has hardly been time to peer beyond the bounds of the close family.

The pandemic locked us in our houses. And we forgot what we had left out.

I have been attempting to come back to normalcy slowly. It was exactly a year ago when I reconnected with my extended family. My cousins. It was the same occasion as today when I'd welcomed them home. We'd made some of the best memories and relived them again today.

Memories. Such a remarkable aspect of our lives this is. Say it aloud, and many would come rushing at you, leaving you drenched with giddiness.

Many did come rushing at me today. Memories from yesteryears when I had spent some wonderful moments with these people around me. But instead of leaving me giddy, they left me wretched. Miserable. Angry that I let the threads break. Break they did because friendship needs holding on to — the tighter you do, the stronger it grows.

I aim to correct this – I won't remain silent when I meet these folks for Holi the next year.

I knowingly broke a streak today — I didn't upload a photo as part of a monthly challenge because I didn't connect with the prompt. I was contributing anyway just for the sake of contributing — photos are not something I enjoy. I love taking photos, but I am not a master photographer. So why even try doing something daily that I don't enjoy?

So neither didn't I click a snap nor upload it.

I am also extremely tired today to spend any time writing significant nightly updates. So today, a quick observation will have to do.

I do not enjoy maintaining streaks. I do not enjoy taking photos without purpose. When tired, I cannot write anything profound. Or I cannot write. Period.

I have too many hobbies or interests that I want to undertake, much more than my schedule allows. I enjoy reading articles from the feeds/newsletters I subscribe to, reading/listening to books, interacting with social media posts, writing and coding on small projects. Even if I club the first three above as reading, it leaves me with many options. I am not even counting the unplanned movie show or wish to doodle. Today I decided I want to address this.

As I scoured the internet (mainly Reddit and YouTube) to find the solution to this not-so-uncommon problem, one suggestion I kept hitting against was to reduce the list. As Cal Newport suggests, I should have a primary and a secondary hobby. Anything more than that and “the overhead counterbalances the value the activity brings.

So what do I want to get rid of?

I do not think reading is something I can stop doing. I enjoy reading this, that and everything. After many trials, I have finally arrived at an effective setup for my reading process. Someday I will go into the details of this setup. But overall, I do not want to eliminate any of that.

Is writing even a hobby anymore? I do this as part of my daily routine and a winding down activity. I need not find time for this. I already have. And hence even this ain't a problem.

So how do I juggle everything I want but haven't got time to pick? The search for a solution continues.

Someone reading my yesterday's post might think I hate interacting with folks online. Or don't want people commenting on my blog posts. That's not the case. Rather, through these interactions, I have clarified my thoughts.

Whenever I publish posts online, it is with an acknowledgement that I will receive reactions from people who follow me. I welcome that. But I want to control where and what form of remarks to entertain.

I want to learn from others' experiences. Or sometimes, I specifically ask for people's input. The notes (“micro-posts”) are often doing exactly that. These are the posts that I want to make reach as many forums as possible. I am a strong proponent of including ways for people to respond to you right below your posts. Here's my suggestion from not so long ago.

If you write a blog and are interested in conversing with your readers, do include a link for the reader to do so right below your every post. I would love it if every blog post had a way for me to respond.

But then there are those words that don't deserve hot takes or quick thoughts when I share something extremely personal. Or when I write something pretty close to my heart. When I am the most vulnerable.

These posts are open to me. And to those few who make an effort to follow and read them with patience. I don't want to make it easy for people to respond to the trivial aspects of the post. I want to interact with people on such posts, not garner reactions.

There's a thin line between the two, reaction and interactions. The former is fleeting and individual. The latter is enduring and mutual.

Email best enables the latter, so I love receiving responses through email. The person sending it doesn't expect an instant reply and tends to collate all their thoughts before hitting send. The conversation can go on for days. Not be ephemeral; die down because there's new stuff to react to.

Today, I began reading Writing Is My Drink by Theo Pauline Nestor. I don't remember the last time when a sample of a book attracted me so much that I purchased it right away. I connected deeply with the experience and struggles that Theo was sharing about her writing journey. Or specifically how she found her writing voice. Of course, her struggles were far more severe than mine, given her profession as a storyteller, working for many publications.

This specific passage had me nodding all along.

The main problem was that on most topics I had no opinion whatsoever, and if I did have an opinion, I was so worried what others might think of that opinion I could barely remember what my opinion was in the presence of another human.

I strongly resonate with Theo's struggle. I read from many people who confidently opine on anything and everything they read or hear. But they don't just stop there; they also sound confident and unambiguous. They know what they want to say. They have found their voice to say that.

I, on the other hand, vacillate between being too assertive and too feeble. “What others might think” is the biggest hurdle in writing for introverts and overthinkers like me. While I write, I am already thinking about the comments or feedback I will receive. Or worse, am I worried I wouldn't receive any?

In that regard, this space is safe. I know I won't receive instant feedback on anything I write here because none of these posts reaches a place where responding is easy—a timeline with some way to reply. I haven't enabled the option to comment, either. I write only the stuff I am not expecting any interaction on. Because when I do that, I always think about the reader first, which is ineffective. Here's what I observed about this behaviour around a year ago.

You are reined back by the voice — you write for someone else. The response you expect from your readers provides you the lead. You write not what you like, you write what you think your reader likes.

A year since, and I still struggle with this. Does that mean I don't like interactions or don't want any feedback from the readers? That is not the case. But I want to find my writing voice first without the added pressure of anticipating the reader's reaction.

I am going to use this space to achieve that.

To you, that one reader who has stumbled across this space and wants to respond or connect – you are welcome to do so. As much as I dread responding to quick comments, I love to take time and respond to people via email.